Running Into You
by Ira Lea
Summary: (Post-Sly4 Reunion fic!) Carmelita used to curse their tendency to RUN INTO EACH OTHER, but now, as months pass her by and there is no sign of Sly, she only wishes she'd known how lucky she was. And now, she will stop at nothing to get Sly back. Short three-shot, inspired by a song, canon pairings as per usual. Warning for fluff and happiness all around, and BEWARE SPOILERS! Enjoy!
1. One Connection

_**AN: I do something in my spare time called 'iPodding' (made that up on the spot!). Basically, I put my music on shuffle, and write a one-shot for each song. I have a whole document devoted to little ficlets and one-shots.**_

_**This one became so long that I gave it its own document. 'Round sixteen pages. For posting, I'm dividing it into three chapters. It was inspried by 'Run' by Jennifer Nettles and Matt Nathanson - - or, rather, one line in 'Run'. The whole 'running into you' part of it.**_

_**You shall understand upon reading.**_

_Warning:_**_ MAJOR spoilers for Sly 4: Thieves in Time! If you have not finished game and seen secret message movie, then BEWARE! Read at your own risk!_**

**_You have been warned._**

* * *

**Running Into** **You  
**By: C.L.

"_COOPER!_"

"_Hey_, Carmelita!" Ringtail greeted her with an inviting smirk and cock of his head, as usual. "I wasn't expecting to see _you_ here."

Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox narrowed her eyes menacingly at Sly Cooper, cocking her shock pistol. You'd think a no-good thief would be a little less pleased to have an Interpol agent at his front and the edge of a tall building at his back, but that was the annoying thing about Sly—he wasn't a _normal_ no-good thief. And now, in the face of her primed gun and dagger-shooting glare, he only leaned casually on that cane he was so fond of carrying around, cool and confident. It was _infuriating._

"Really?" she shot back, voice sharp. "Funny—I wasn't expecting to see _you_, either, but somehow I am _not_ surprised."

Sly chuckled. "Funny how that works."

"Drop the merchandise, Cooper."

"What, this old thing?" Sly twirled the solid gold tiara nonchalantly around his finger. "Well, I can't do _that_—I need this for a friend of mine—but what do you say, instead of a crown, we strike a different bargain? You, me, tomorrow night? I know a great place downtown."

Carmelita scoffed. "We are _not_ playing this game again, Cooper."

"Aw, sick of it already? You'd think, by how much we run into each other, that you'd enjoy my company!"

Carmelita growled low in her throat, but Sly had just struck the pin right on the head. That was the problem—they kept _running into each other._ And it wasn't even on purpose, most of the time!

"Not a chance, Ringtail," she growled. "Hands in the air, and drop the crown."

At this, Sly rolled his eyes. "Uh—it's not a crown. It's a _tiara._" And, with that last parting line, he turned and leapt off the building.

Despite herself, Carmelita couldn't help a gasp of surprise and, though she denied it vehemently later, concern. She rushed to the edge and peered over, already fearing what she would see.

Her worried look melted into a snarl of frustration as she witnessed Sly parachuting easily to the ground several stories below and disappearing around the corner. She'd forgotten he had that—blast!

xXx

Sly chuckled to himself as he nimbly scaled the security fence surrounding the museum and disappeared into the city, running a complicated route up poles and around corners and over rooftops and power lines until he was sure that even Inspector Carmelita Fox didn't have a bead on him.

Finally, he took a moment to pause and look around for his destination—his team's hideout. Perching on the tip of a flagpole, he pulled out his binocucom and swept the surrounding city, looking for the telltale yellow marker that Bentley that programmed into it, which would mark the location of their newest base of operations.

The device also allowed him and his team to communicate.

"That was a close one, Bentley," Sly admitted. "You didn't tell me _she'd_ be there."

"Sorry, Sly, but she came in absolutely last-minute. I didn't find out until you did!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, well, I got away, so no biggie. I have the crown-thing, so what next?"

"_IT'S A TIARA!"_

Sly rolled his eyes but couldn't help smirking. "Uh…right. Whatever."

Bentley scowled. "Sometimes, I think you do this just to annoy me."

"Now, why would I do that?"

sSsSsSs

Carmelita remembered that moment now, as she sat alone in the dead of night in her little police boat. She remembered glowering at Sly, remembered pointing a gun at him, remembered being frustrated that they were always _running into each other._

And she sobbed.

Ever since _The Night_, when he'd disappeared to who-knows-when, she'd been searching, searching, _searching_ for some sign of him, anything at all to give her a clue to finding him! That evening, she'd been searching the river with her boat and flashlight…and she'd finally found something.

A sparkling teardrop fell from her cheek and landed on the scorched photo in her hand.

She remembered this photo.

She remembered when it had been taken. She and Sly had been undercover together during his stint as an Interpol officer, investigating a baroness. They'd been at a dinner party thrown by the suspect, searching for evidence, for clues. One of the guests—an old friend of theirs, unaware of their assignment—had insisted on getting a picture of them. Carmelita had posed for the camera, smiling prettily while inwardly seething at the delay—

And then Sly—_the charming, conniving old flirt—_had turned and planted a soft kiss right on her cheek. She'd been shocked, and the picture had captured the moment perfectly—him leaning in, her lips a perfect O of surprise.

She remembered the picture later. Somehow Sly had managed to obtain a copy of the image, and had put it in his wallet. Wherever he went, it was there in his back pocket—_"So that I can still look at your pretty face even when you're not with me. I still prefer the original, though._" Oh, the way he'd winked at her…

And then, even _later_, when they'd been on that stupid time-traveling adventure. It had been clipped to the visor of the passenger seat—Sly's normal seat. Bentley had confided in her that Sly had made a habit of taking it down and looking at it while they were barreling through the vortex of time.

Now…now the picture was scorched and soaked and the image was faded. But Carmelita clutched it like a lifeline and held it close to her heart, bowing her head in despair.

Though she remained unflappable and composed in public, she allowed herself to cry now, silent tears running down her cheeks as she gripped the only connection to Sly she had.

_Sly…where are you?_

xXx

Far, far away, a young raccoon stood perched on the tip of the largest pyramid, gazing out over Old Egypt. He hated this—the blazing sun, the gritty sand, the ancientness of it all. But he couldn't leave.

He was trapped. Trapped several hundred years before his time.

Out of habit, he reached for his satchel, but it wasn't until he had absently rummaged around in it for a second that he remembered, and withdrew his hand with a sigh.

He kept reaching for that picture, kept longing to see her face again, only to remember that it was gone—lost in that final battle with Le Paradox. It was probably burned to a cinder now, up in flames with the rest of the blimp he'd crashed in.

He sighed mournfully and looked away from the view that most people would have thought amazing. Sure, it was awe-inspiring—but it was little more than a gilded cage. This whole world was his prison, because it _wasn't his._ He lived in a world of cops and robbers, of gadgets and teamwork and stealth. This was a world of…of _gods_ and pharaohs and olden days!

He didn't belong here, but at this rate, he would never leave. He would never see Bentley or Murray again, never pull off another heist with them…never see Carmelita again.

Sly Cooper began to pick his way down the pyramid, leaping and gliding lightly where others would've stumbled and held on for dear life. He wished he could enjoy it—he was climbing the Great Pyramid of Giza, after all, and that didn't happen every day. But the feat had a hollow feel to it, and he knew why.

He _needed_ to find a way out of this place!

He needed to find a way back to his friends.

He needed to find a way back to Carmelita.

* * *

_**AN: This is a reunion fic, so there will be time-travelling fun soon! This is just me setting up the pieces for what will be a simple but fluffy and satisfying chess game! Hoep y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**_

_**Please review if you can, but if you can't, click the follow button, and I'll get it! :) This will be updated regularly; no month-long hiatuses here!**_


	2. Wizard, This Is Sitting Duck

_**AN: Sorry! In previous stories, I've updated a lot quicker than this, but this weekend was rather full and I've just barely got a few moments now! Actually, y'all have a certain reviewer to thank for me taking this time to post this latest chapter in this short story!**_

_LonePhantom756__**, I thank you! Your review was awesome, and I'm really pleased that you took the time to tell me all those things! Your review was, by far, the longest and my favorite-est (pardon my horrid grammar) of the bunch of them! Thank you! I look forward to what you have to say about this particular installment!**_

_**So, I forgot to put a disclaimer (again). So, instead of leaving it 'til the last chapter, as I did with my last story, I'll go ahead and put it in now. No, I don't own Sly Cooper. No, I don't know how to make video game software. No, I'm not even that good at video games. Yes, I die frequently when I play it. Yes, that's kind of pathetic. Yes, that doesn't lessen my love for it. No, I'm not turning a profit - - where'd you get a silly idea like that? This is . Do the math.**_

_**I hope they're still in character, Lone Phantom! :) And I hope ALL of you enjoy!**_

* * *

Several years passed for Carmelita, with no sign of Sly. The picture stayed on her person wherever she went, no matter how worn it became. She obtained a fresh copy, of course…but it wasn't the same as the charred image always in her breast pocket.

She threw herself into her work with a vengeance, but catching criminals didn't have the same thrill as it used to have. She had used to feel like what she did was great—she was making the world a better place, contributing to society by throwing the villains behind bars. But now, it was…just a job.

Then, the call came.

"Bentley? What is it? I'm on an assignment right now and—"

"Carmelita, you need to get over here, ASAP! It's Sly!"

That was all she needed. She snapped her phone shut, holstered her shock pistol, and leapt into the police car.

She arrived at the lab to find Murray and Bentley both waiting for her. "You have to see this," Bentley told her gravely, hurrying her into a special corner of the building that held the display for the '_Theivus Raccoonus'_, the book that had supposedly been passed down through the generations of Sly's family.

"Look at this."

Bentley took down the huge book and flipped it open.

There, on a previously blank page, words were…_appearing_. Just like that, out of thin air.

_Blizzard, this is Sitting Duck. You read me?_

"What the…?" Carmelita muttered, perplexed.

Bentley coughed in embarrassment. "Ah, in one of our heists, we used code names. Sly's was Sitting Duck."

"Charming. And who was Blizzard?"

Bentley blushed. "It was _Wizard_, but he _insisted_ on calling me everything _except_ that! Blizzard, Lizard…you get the idea."

"So…this really is Sly then?" Carmelita felt a spark of hope ignite in her heart.

"Undoubtedly. I'll bet he's using the code names so that his message won't be misinterpreted or figured out through the years between his writing this and our reading it."

"Ugh…time travel makes my brain hurt," Murray moaned.

"Quiet!" Carmelita suddenly burst out. "They're appearing again!"

_I'll keep this quick, but I reeeeeeeally hope you guys find this—it sucks here in Egypt. Everything's hot and andy and the punishment for thieving is getting your hand chopped off. Can you believe that?_

"Egypt," Carmelita muttered. A lead!

"But _when?_" Murray asked.

"It's gotta be a while ago, if that's still the punishment for stealing," Bentley guessed.

"Can't he just get to the point and tell us?!" Carmelita groaned, itching to get a move on.

_I really hope you've still got the machine, Lizard, because if not, this Sitting Duck may as well be roasted. Not sure exactly what year it is, but the current pharaoh is Tutenkhamen._

"This is going to take some research," Bentley muttered. "I'll need to find a relic from that time and—"

He stopped as more words appeared.

_No need for research, buddy. Flip the page once this message is done._

Before they could do so, another paragraph was started, but this time the words came slower, and the letters were noticeably shaky—as if the hand writing them was trembling.

_I hope this works,_

There was a long pause.

_…and if not, tell the big guy I miss him, and tell Her that I'm sorry and…I guess we won't be running into each other anymore. We had some good times, pal. And I'll never forget you. Please_

—Another pause—

_…don't forget me, either._

_I'm countin' on you, Wizard._

_Over and out._

Carmelita bit her lip and tightened her grip on her gun. She could only imagine how old Ringtail…how _Sly_…was feeling as he wrote this, but she could guess by the shaky hand and where all the pauses had been. _Oh, Sly…_

Bentley was hung up on another fact. "He called me 'Wizard'," he murmured, shell-shocked. "He actually called me '_Wizard'_."

"Guys, shouldn't we flip the page?" Murray asked, fidgeting.

Bentley blinked. "What? Oh…of course! Yes, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can find him!" He turned to the next page.

Carmelita sucked in a startled breath.

The item was a sketch, on a small sheet of thick paper. What was it called again…?

"Papyrus," Bentley supplied the answer without her asking—he had a habit of doing that, spreading his sometimes seemingly-infinite knowledge. "The Egyptians made it using a unique method involving pounding strips of a plant material into layers—"

"Thanks, Bentley," Carmelita interrupted him. "But now isn't the time."

Bentley subsided into silence.

The sketch on the page of papyrus was crude but recognizable—Carmelita, in a pretty evening gown, holding a rose. Her eyes were wide…her mouth a perfect O of surprise.

He hadn't drawn himself in, but she knew that if he had, he'd have been right next to her, one arm around her waist, leaning in for a quick peck on the cheek.

Bentley reached out to pick up the sketch, but Carmelita beat him to it, reaching out and snatching it from between the pages of the _Thievus Raccoonus_. She bit her lip as she studied it, knowing what it meant.

He'd been thinking about her.

"Uh…guys?" Murray looked uncertain. "Are we going to go get Sly yet?"

It was enough to snap Carmelita from her trance. "Yes!" she answered firmly, tightening her grip on the sketch. "Bentley, go get the time machine! I want that thing ready by yesterday!"

Bentley set his face in a look of hard determination. "Yes _Ma'am_!" he replied seriously, already wheeling himself out of the lab. "Murray, come with me! I'm going to need your strength to get the machine out to the van."

"Coming, Bentley!" Murray followed eagerly.

Carmelita lingered in the lab a moment, standing over the still-open _Thievus Raccoonus._ She reached out with her free hand and traced the lines Sly had written.

_…tell Her I'm sorry…and I guess we won't be running into each other anymore._

The words cut into her like a knife. Before he'd gone, she had cursed their tendency to always meet at the worst possible moments. Now, she felt panic grip her heart at the thought of admitting that they would never _run into each other_ ever again. And obviously, Sly was having trouble with that concept as well…

"You don't have to apologize, Cooper," she murmured. "Just be alive and well when we get there."

He was on the pyramid again. What could he say? After several years hanging around, it had become a favorite haunt of his. Not least because he had taken to scanning the horizon…wondering if, someday, he would see the van appear. It was his greatest hope. Now, however, unlike usual, he had a large book balanced on one knee and an old-fashioned ink set on the other, and instead of looking off into the mirage-ridden distance, he was hunched over the book, clutching an old-fashioned writing tool called a 'stylus'.

Sly put down the stylus and just sat there for a long moment, staring at his words as the ink dried.

It had taken him a long time to find the _Thievus Raccoonus_—without Bentley's research, finding anything in this hot, dreary land was next to impossible. But eventually he'd managed to track down his ancestor from this time, Slytunkhamen, and, along with him, the _Thievus Raccoonus_. He knew Bentley kept a close watch on the book in the present day…at least, he had. Hopefully he still did.

Eventually, he snapped out of his trance, remembering that he still had to put in the drawing. Careful not to disturb the ink, he flipped the page.

He paused, though, as he picked up the little sheet of papyrus, staring at the face of his beloved. Okay…_ex-_beloved. He wasn't sure where he stood with her at the moment. She'd been horribly mad at him in most of his recent memories of her, but before they'd parted, she'd seemed sorry, and he'd thought that maybe it'd be alright with her. But what if it wasn't? What if she was still mad at him? What if she was _furious_ with him? What if she no longer wanted anything to do with him?

Oh well…this picture would let her know that he'd been thinking of her.

Reverently, he tucked it in between the pages of the _Thievus Raccoonus_ and closed the book. He'd know soon if it worked—no matter when his friends got his message, they'd arrive around this time—when the sketch was made.

He sat down and waited, desperately hoping, waiting to hear the sound he most wanted to hear—his friends, calling him.

* * *

**_AN: This is the second-to-last chapter! Yeah, I know - - it's OBSCENELY short. Usually I write longer. But keep in mind that this whole thing was sixteen pages, in size eleven font, Verdana. It's not exactly a beast of a novel._**

**_The next and last chapter should be up soon, putting a conclusion on this little three-shot! I hope you've enjoyed this very short ride (if it were an attraction at Disneyland, my other multi-chapter story would be Space Mountain and this would be the merry-go-round in Fantasy Land). I know I've enjoyed writing it; I LOVE the Sly games! Thanks a bunch to all who've reviewed, and I hope you'll continue to do so!_**

**_Just a bit of a hint. I always thought it was stupid when authors said "Reviews make me update faster!" but today I learned that it's true. Go figure, huh?_**

**_Just a hint._**

**_Love, C.L._**


	3. The Voices In My Head

_AN:_**_ So, here's my dilemma. One reviewer told me that it would suck when I finished this (thank you) and another told me that the cliffhanger was killing her (also thank you). So, what do I do? Finish the story (which, allegedly, would suck) or post this last chapter and resolve the cliffhanger (which, allegedly, would definitely NOT suck)._**

**_So, you see my problem._**

**_As you can also see, however, I decided to remedy the cliffhanger and finish the story. I know, I know, it's sad that we're over so soon...but a happy conclusion is a LOT better than a horrible cliffhanger. So...here you go. I sincerely hope that even in cheesy goodness, they all remain in character._**

* * *

"It's _time travel_," Carmelita muttered irritably, crossing her arms and tapping her foot as she slumped in the passenger seat of the van. "Shouldn't it be instantaneous?"

"I'm _sorry_, Carmelita," Bentley replied in a tone that suggested that he was not really sorry, but rather annoyed at her griping. "But this is just how it works. It takes time to get from one point to another. It's no small matter to punch through the space-time continuum."

Carmelita growled under her breath and ground her teeth in frustration. Murray and Bentley shared wary looks and quickly edged away from her, shooting uncertain glances at her out of the corner of their eyes, but she didn't care or feel sorry for them. They'd been in the van, shooting through the time vortex, for approximately an hour, with no sign of stopping. Why did time travel take _time?_ Didn't that defeat the point?!

Suddenly, a light appeared at the end of the tunnel. Cliché, yes, but the irony escaped Carmelita as she inhaled sharply and leaned forward in anticipation, realizing that her wait was finally over.

The radiance engulfed the van, the blinding light searing their skin and blinding them completely—

And then suddenly, they were bathed in a different kind of brilliance.

All around them, the desert sun beat down, reflecting harshly off of wave after wave of rolling sand. Everything—_everything_—was gold and bright and the very air seemed to shiver and ripple with heat.

The splendor of it all was lost on Carmelita, who was already scanning the surrounding area. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed against the harsh sun, squinting in attempt to see—

Her breath caught in her throat.

_There._

The pyramids seemed to tremble and heave, distorted by the reflections of the thick, heavy heat off of the golden sand, but the sun was at just the right angle to highlight the figure poised at the very tip of the largest of the three. She'd recognize him anywhere, even after the years apart.

"I see him!" Murray called excitedly, already shoving his way out of the back of the van. "I _see_ him!"

"Great scott!" Bentley crowed. "We found him! We—we _found_ him!"

Carmelita said nothing, only stared, wide-eyed at the shadow crouching high above her, poised with a balance that could only belong to one person.

She watched as Sly, who had his back to them, scanned the horizon before him. She watched as, after a long moment, his shoulder slumped in disappointment. She watched as he tucked the _Thievus Raccoonus_ under his arm with an air of defeat and began to pick his way down the Great Pyramid.

He'd been waiting, she realized.

And now he thought it was all for naught.

Well, she couldn't have that, could she?

She was out of the van in an instant. "Sly!" she called, willing her voice to carry across the sand and stone as she ran. "Sly! Wait!"

xXx

He'd known it wouldn't work.

Still, he couldn't help the stab of disappointment when the distant horizon remained unchanged and exactly the same as it had been. With a sigh, Sly began to move down the pyramid, thinking that he should probably get back to the hideout his ancestor had set up. It was time to start thinking about his future in this world, since apparently, he wasn't going to get a chance to live out a future in his own world.

And yet, he didn't want to start that yet. He felt like now was not the time to look forward. It felt more like the time to mourn.

_Sly…!_

Sly's head whipped up in surprise as he heard a faint sound—like someone calling his name. Someone familiar. _Carmelita?_ Hope blossomed in his heart and eagerly he again scanned the land before him, looking for anything, anything to suggest he was saved.

There was nothing.

_Sly…!_

Sly shook his head in disgust. Now he was imagining things as well. Great—_just_ great.

_Sly, buddy!_

Sly stumbled and nearly didn't land his next jump as the next voice met his ears. This time, it wasn't Carmelita—it sounded like Murray. Again he paused and looked around, but again, there was nothing.

"And now, not only do I talk to myself, but I'm hearing other people talking to me," Sly muttered. "There's the final proof—I'm going insane."

_Sly, turn around!_

Turn around? What?

Doing what the voices told him would suggest that he wasn't _"going"_ insane—he already was. But still, he couldn't resist. Maybe, just maybe…

He cautiously turned his head—and promptly dropped the _Thievus Raccoonus_ in surprise.

He'd expected to be greeted with nothing but rolling dunes and undeniable proof that he'd finally lost it. Instead, he was almost stunned by the brilliant colors of the Cooper van, standing out against the sand like a sore thumb.

He didn't believe it at first. He reached up and dazedly rubbed his eyes. Was it a mirage? It had to be a mirage. Of course it was a mirage…

But there was Murray, waving like a maniac as he pounded toward the pyramid, and there was Bentley, forgoing trying to wheel through the dunes in favor of activating the hover-pack feature on his wheelchair and flying forward. And, leading them both, was Carmelita.

Now the only question was—was she running because she was excited to see him, or because she was excited to _catch_ him, and cart him off to Interpol? With her, he could never tell.

This thought stopped him for only a second—a second's hesitation that seemed like an eternity to both him and those watching.

Then he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He batted aside the internal argument and darted down the side of the pyramid.

xXx

For Carmelita, time seemed to stop as Sly hesitated. She could tell he was surprised, could tell he didn't believe it—that much was clear by the way he'd frozen and actually _dropped_ the oh-so-important _Thievus Raccoonus._

Now, he was wavering, pausing, standing still as he stared at them. Carmelita bit her lip and ran faster, stumbling as her eyes never left Sly. She was waiting—_waiting_—for him to break the sudden stillness, to move forward, to climb down, but she couldn't just push aside the nagging worry that he _wouldn't_, silly though it was.

Then he was a blur of movement, seeming to streak down the side of the pyramid, and Carmelita finally realized just how much she'd missed seeing him leap and jump in such blinding displays of seemingly effortless acrobatics. Before, it had usually been while he was running away from her on their nighttime chases, but now, incredibly, he was running towards her, and the distance between them was closing.

She stopped several meters from the base of the pyramid, watching as Sly leapt the last few steps to the ground. Amazingly, he actually stumbled upon landing, almost falling flat on his face, but he didn't seem to notice, grinning as he was. This alone was a testament to just how affected he was.

"G-Guys!" he stuttered, brown eyes wide with hope and excitement. "You're here!"

Before he could even regain his balance, Murray and Bentley had shot from behind Carmelita and pounced. Carmelita winced at the bone-crushing hug Murray delivered, but Sly didn't seem to care—only laughed and gripped his friend tightly. Bentley, not wanting to miss out on the love, forced his way in between them. Rather than breaking up the embrace, the act only added to it, turning it into a touching group hug and making Carmelita wish she'd brought her camera. This was definitely a moment to remember.

Eventually, they all seemed to remember Carmelita, standing to the side and feeling distinctly like a fifth wheel. Sly gently brushed Murray off, and Bentley released him without the need to be told, backing up slightly to give the fox and raccoon some space.

Carmelita wanted to rush forward and embrace him, just as Murray had, but something stopped her. She realized that Sly was looking at her with something akin to doubt in his hazel eyes. His hands were twitching, as if he wanted to reach out but was stopping himself. And when she met his eyes, he dropped his gaze.

Was he…afraid?

Sly, for his part, _was_ very afraid. He didn't know exactly what to do, and was still unsure about where he stood with Carmelita. Would it be a bad move to embrace her, or was she longing for it as much as he was? He couldn't be positive, and the uncertainty was killing him.

Was the woman standing before him _Carmelita_ or _Inspector Fox_? Because it made a big difference.

She reached up, and he tensed, wondering what she was doing and how he should react. His apprehension melted into confusion as her fingers disappeared inside her breast pocket, fishing for something.

She pulled out a scrap of charred paper. The edges were seared, blackened, and curled, and while Sly could tell that it had once been white and pristine, the surface was now smudged and worn and stained with years of abuse and damage. Silently, she held it out to him. Still puzzled, he accepted the piece and studied it.

He recognized it instantly. Of course he did—there wasn't a day that had gone by in this forsaken land that he hadn't thought about it. It was the picture. Worn and damaged beyond repair, yes, but the same picture.

He looked up at her. "You kept this?"

She tried to smile at him, but her expression wavered and she bowed her head to hide tears threatening. "I wasn't sure you'd ever come back," she replied softly. "I'd hoped, of course, but…"

She trailed off, unable to voice her past fears. She never, _ever_ showed weakness—not in public, and _certainly_ not in front of Sly, of all people. She looked up now, uncertain as to how Sly would react to her admission.

He didn't say anything—but rather, Carmelita was shocked to find him closer than he had been, and suddenly his lips were on hers, and his arms were around her. She tensed, startled, but his embrace tightened and, after a moment of battling wills, she allowed herself to relax, and kiss him back.

Bentley and Murray shared knowing grins. They'd seen this coming, even if neither Sly nor Carmelita had. Then, with a sly grin, Bentley pulled out his binocucom.

When Carmelita finally broke away, she felt a lot more together and confident. Sly, too, had had his fears banished. It was as if that one kiss had set everything straight and dispelled all possible doubts as to where they stood with each other. In a way, it had.

They were interrupted, however, by a flash and a click. With reflexes a cat would be jealous of, both whipped their heads around, immediately zeroing in on the source.

Smugly, Bentley waved the binocucom. "That's definitely one for the books," he announced proudly.

It took both Sly and Carmelita a moment to register his words, before both abruptly blushed and let go of the other, inching apart and looking away. Sly fidgeted in embarrassment and Carmelita rubbed her arm uncertainly. With Bentley and Murray grinning stupidly at the triumph of capturing Sly and Carmelita making goo-goo eyes at each other, both of the lovebirds felt the need to do something to break the tension, but weren't quite sure what.

Sly was startled and actually jumped in surprise when Carmelita suddenly snatched the burnt picture from his grip and shoved her nose in his face, eyes burning with a sudden intensity and menace that had him backing up a few paces and eyeing her warily. "_Don't_," she growled threateningly, planting her hands on her hips, "_ever_ leave me like that _again._ Understood?"

Sly gulped nervously. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Carmelita spun around smartly on her heel and strode away, towards the van, nose in the air and hand resting suggestively on the butt of her shock pistol.

Sly stared after her, stunned and not just a little impressed. _That_ was the Carmelita he knew—hot-headed, stubborn, strong, and beautiful.

Bentley chuckled as he wheeled himself over to be at Sly's side. "She's gonna be a handful," he warned with a grin.

Sly's eyes didn't leave Carmelita's swaying figure as she moved farther and farther away. "Yeah," he agreed, voice distant.

"Sure you're up to it?"

Finally, Sly managed to shift his gaze, looking down at Bentley with a new light in his eyes—a sparkle of laughter, a glimmer of mischievous delight, a gleam of anticipation. "I was born up to it," he replied with a smirk of impish cockiness that sat naturally on his roguish features.

However, as Murray joined them and the three friends began to follow the Inspector, he added, "Besides, at least she's not shooting at me anymore."

"Mm-hmm," Bentley agreed. "She's a bit too good of a shot to forever have at our tails, if you ask me."

"The Murray did _not_ like being on the wrong end of that gun of mass, electric destruction," Murray admitted, eyeing the offending pistol with wary eyes.

Sly just grinned easily and slung his can over his shoulder. "Aw, don't be like that. I thought it was fun."

Bentley rolled his eyes. "If a little hazardous?" he prompted.

"That's what _made_ it fun," Sly insisted, just to keep the argument going. "It was like tag!"

"_The Murray_…does not get it," Murray said after a long moment.

"Think hide-and-seek—but with more adrenaline," Sly elaborated, as if that explained everything.

Bentley groaned. "You two were _made_ for each other."

Carmelita, having heard the whole conversation, just smirked to herself and patted his shock pistol in contentment. Though she didn't want to admit it, she _did_ know what Sly was talking about, and, secretly—and don't ever tell Sly this!—she kind-of-sort-of _had_ almost, maybe-just-a-little-bit…_enjoyed_ those Cop-and-Robber chases as well.

…Maybe they _were_ made for each other.

* * *

**_AN: So, this is about the shortest multi-chap I've ever written. Yay? But I sincerely hope you all enjoyed the ride, short as it was, and I hope this is up to all y'all's standards! :) Thank you to each and every one of your reviews, and if you like it, I've got more! Click the link above-the blue words 'Ira' and 'Lea'. Yeah. Those ones._**

**_Thanks! ('specially to Lone Phantom. Love. You.)_**

**_Love, C. L._**


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